I don't know if all of you know Jane and Ben. I myself sometimes wonder if I know Jane and Ben. When confronted with this memory loss, I like to remind myself just how they entered my life.
Whilst strolling through Golden Gate park, one afternoon, I stumbled upon a small burrow in the base of a large red wood tree. And by stumble, I do mean literally. I fell head-long into the tiny hole, saved by my shoulders, which are quite broad, I feel.
As my eyes adjusted to the pitch black darkness inside, I began to make out a dancing pair of figures that seemed to be at once very distant, and at the same time, very close and yet small. The lights were quite dim, yet my eyes eventually began to make out the forms more clearly.
There were two lizards, thin and upright. They had top hats and canes. I believe there was music: Sweet Georgia Brown.
As their dance unfolded, and became more elaborate (featuring flips and catapault manuvers) I became aware of the red curtain behind them. Golden tassels hung from it in a manner that would best be used for drawing them back.
And they did draw back. The lizards bowed, then scooted backwards and oout of view. And now, that view was empty, save for the framed curtains. And out darted a broad chested man with a bright neon yellow mohawk. In his right hand he had what looked to be a shrunken head. It was clear to me now that he was indeed, quite far away. This was appherent as the foot falls came closer and closer, resounding now off the silent walls of this cavern.
And now he was right up on me, this leather-clad man. And now the shrunken head is thrust into my face.
DON'T MAKE EYE CONTACT!My ears rang with the cry, a forceful command that was followed by his dancing about wildly and throwing darts at my face.
And now, I could see behind him, the auric haired woman who seemed to be wearing fur. Upon closer inspection, however it was very obvious that her clothing was, in fact, alive. She was wearing a shirt made entirely of live, willing squirrels, and fuzzy purple pants made entirely out of weasels. Live weasels, all hodling hands and chittering gossip at one another. He went to her now and gave her a gentle kiss upon her pale cheek. Then he spiked the shrunken head and somehow managed to run directly up the side wall of this room. And below, Jane smiled at her animal minions, which squeaked and chirped at one another relayng her psychic commands. Her face became quite stern now, and the animals began to wriggle.
ATTACK!!!!!!
And 1000 furry little monsters attacked me with the ferocity I'd only ever seen on television reality shows.
I don't really remember how I got out of that cave. I woke up the next day in my own bed with a fresh cup of tea by my head and bandages on all of squirrel-eaten extremities. A note was written and left upon my chest. It read as follows.
Dearest Alex;
You are a bastard.
Love; Jane + Ben
P.S. Your shoe is untied.I stood up to check my email, and immediately tripped, breaking my nose on the table.